


That Apartment

by fineandwittie



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Spoilers, The Kenyon Family (No. 71)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3396974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineandwittie/pseuds/fineandwittie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble following tonight's episode. I want so very badly for him to prove that she's wrong about how he feels. </p><p>So I fixed it.</p><p>(rated for a single curse)</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Apartment

“It’s business.” She says it with such finality, so matter-of-factly. Red simply cannot let it pass.

“Lizzie.” His voice causes her to pause in the doorway, but she doesn’t turn back to him.

It’s easier, he thinks, speaking to her when she’s not looking at him. He stands, but otherwise stays where he is.

“Lizzie…please. This isn’t simply business. It never has been and it never will be. You must know this. I simply do not understand how you can keep bel—“

“Reddington,” Her tone is mostly flat, but there is a touch of desperation around its jagged edges. “Stop. Stop….trying. Stop pretending you care about me. I’m a means to an end. You think I have some knowledge about the fulcrum. That’s all I am to you, and I know that. I understand that. Maybe…for a little while, you had me fooled. You…But I get it. So stop pretending. You don’t need to. I’m not going to try to get taken off the task force. As long as you keep bringing us Blacklisters, I’ll work with you. So it’s all really unnecessary.”

He laughs. A hollow, bitter sound that actually forces her to turn back toward him.

She examines him, frowning. She can see the pain, the overwhelming and agonizing pain in his eyes. She does not understand it.

“Lizzie, this hasn’t been about that since the moment you walked down those stairs to greet me as I languished in that box. You…This isn’t about the fulcrum. As long as…my enemies think that I have it, we are both of us safe. This isn’t about the Blacklist. I could simply take Dembe and go kill them all myself. It would be simpler. Lizzie, I won’t lie to you. When I walked into FBI headquarters…I had a plan. I wanted the fulcrum and I wanted to take down one very specific man, using you to do it…That changed very quickly. You…you are magnificent. Intelligent, talented, focused, intense, kind-hearted, devious, and a hundred other things that are so very compelling to me. And you are, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. You…My priorities…my plans and goals changed very quickly after I met you. I care for you a great deal, Lizzie. I would do anything for you. Give you anything. I would give my life for yours in a heartbeat. So don’t tell me that this is business. I refuse to allow you to shut your eyes to this. You can hate me for the rest of my days, if that is what you desire, but I will not…I cannot allow you to go on under the misapprehension that you mean nothing to me. Because you are everything. There is only one thing I have ever experienced in my life that is worse than losing you, then even the idea of losing you.”

She blinks owlishly at him and considers this. Reviews what she knows about his life, about the missing picture from the Stewmaker’s book from 1990, the curious note at the bottom of his file.

“Your daughter’s death?”

He flinches. A sort of whole body twitch, as thought he’d brushed a live wire, but he nods.

“Red…”

She stops. He stares at her as she remains silent and his eyes goes slowly flat. Empty. Cold.

“Lizzie, I love you. I am in love with you and I have been for a very long time. If you want me gone, merely say the word. If you’d like me dead, I will have Dembe give you the name of a man…among my enemies. Merely tell him that I do not have the fulcrum and I will be dead within 48 to 72 hours.”

She gapes at him. Dead? She never for a moment wished him dead. Not once. Not when she sat in the back of an ambulance and called him a monster. Not when she’d stood in his work room and told him to go to hell. Not even when she’d come out of Luther Braxton’s trance and realized that he cared nothing for her. 

“Red! No! I’d never…wait…love?”

He blinks once and raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, Agent Keen. I’m in love with you.”

He waits. She processes this. Red loves her. Red is in love with her.

A warm liquid feeling settles into her gut. The numbness that has been clinging to her chest since Braxton begins to dissolve slowly.

She steps toward him. One step. Two. Around the desk. 

She halts when her toes meet his and looks up into his eyes.

“I…Oh, Red.”

She smiles and his eyes seem to go out of focus. He is standing stiffly, so she reaches up and lays her palms on his cheeks, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“I love you too.”

His eyes go impossibly wide and his mouth drops open. She takes the opportunity to kiss him, tasting his mouth gently for a moment before his brain seems to come back online and he’s kissing her back. Fiercely, like a parched man at a well. Like a starving man at a banquet. She’s heard the analogies, the cliches, before, but never quite understood them until Red kisses her back.

He kisses her like he wanted to crawl inside of her and live beneath her skin for the rest of her days. 

She’s never felt quite so loved before in her whole life.

She still doesn’t know what happened that night. She still doesn’t know how Red was involved or who he wants revenge on.

What she does know is that she wants to snatch up that key to the apartment he bought her, grab him by the hand, drag him there, and let him fuck her on every flat surface they can find. 

So she does.


End file.
